Blackhawks. Squinting, Dixon searched the sky until he saw the five helicopters. Though the operation needed only four, three in a pinch, Dixon had decided to add a fifth as an added margin of safety. They had only one chance to get this thing right and he didn't want what happened to the Teheran raid to happen tonight. He had, after 1 all, a personal stake in the success, or failure, of this operation.
The choppers were no sooner on the ground than Cerro gave the order to commence loading. Besides Kozak's platoon, two medics and an extra radioman for Cerro would go. The radioman, at Cerro's request, was Dixon's own driver, Fast Eddie. Though Eddie, like Kozak's platoon, didn't know where he was going, he was glad to get out of the division main for a while, even if it meant carrying a radio.
Besides the rations and water they would need for the next twenty-four hours, and their basic load of ammunition, Cerro was taking nine AT-4 antitank rocket launchers to be divided between the three squads, and two M-60 machine guns with 600 rounds per gun. Though the banditos, as everyone now referred to the mercenaries, didn't have anything bigger than a pickup truck, rocket launchers and M-6os would be useful in taking out machine- gun positions or banditos holed up in a building that 40mm grenades and the 5.56mm squad automatic weapons could not reach. Cerro had even tried to get a 60mm mortar, but couldn't find one in time. The consummate American warrior, Cerro was in love with firepower; the more, the better.
Once the helicopters were loaded, they would take Cerro's force to an isolated spot where he could brief the ground force, conduct some rehearsals, link up with Colonel Guajardo and his helicopter, and rest his troops. By noon, he would have everything except the Apache attack helicopters in hand, briefed on the mission, and at least one short rehearsal completed. If necessary, he would then have the balance of the afternoon to refine his plan, conduct another rehearsal, or rest his troops.
Either way, Cerro showed no worry about being able to make their; scheduled 2100 hours liftoff time.
'I thought I would find you here, Scotty.'
Turning, Dixon didn't even salute Big Al as he came up to stand next to him and watch the ground force prepare for departure. Instead, he stood there for a moment without looking at the general, then spoke.
'Have you reconsidered my request, sir?'
Without turning toward Dixon, and not wanting to rehash the converation, Big Al simply told him no in a manner that could leave no doubt in Dixon's mind that all discussion was at an end. After a couple of minutes' silence, however, during which Big Al began to feel like a heel, he turned to Dixon. 'Look, Scotty, you're too goddamned old to be crawling around in the dark, on your belly, like a twenty-two-year-old ranger candidate. And it won't do you any good to remind me that the Mexican colonel is at least five years older than you. I'm not responsible for him.' Big Al paused, softening his tone before he continued. 'Besides, the last thing we need is a person emotionally involved, like you, dicking around out there tonight. Given your current state of mind, not to mention lack of sleep, you'd be of no use to the mission or Jan, not to mention yourself. As much as I would love to let you go, Scotty, I am ordering you to stay.'
Dixon had expected Big Al's answer. He knew Big Al was right. He knew that it would be pointless for him to go out there. That wasn't his kind of war. That wasn't what he was trained for. He would be, as Big Al pointed out, a threat, not an asset. Dixon had done everything he could to plan and prepare the mission. All of that was, he knew, logical and correct. Still, the thought of staying behind, doing nothing while others prepared to go out and save the only person in the world that really mattered to him, cut him to the bone. The idea that he had done his best, and that that might not be good enough to save Janr broke down whatever restraint and reserve of calm Dixon had left. As he watched Cerro walk from helicopter to helicopter, making sure everyone was in place and all was ready for liftoff, tears began to streak down Dixon's cheeks. Big Al pretended not to notice. Instead, he just stood next to his G3, watching the helicopters as, one by one, they lifted off and disappeared to the south.
Delapos turned away from the window and again began pacing the small room that served as his office. He did so for several minutes before he stopped by the window, looked out in the direction of Ejido de Dolores for a minute, and went back to his pacing. The thought that he could lose both Childress and Lefleur did not seem possible. It did not seem fair, either, especially since Lefleur had dumped the American congressman and his companions and left, leaving him the responsibility of deciding what to do with them. It would have been better, Delapos kept thinking, if the fool had simply killed the Americans and been done with them. As it was, if neither Lefleur nor Childress showed up, and he received no suggestions from Alaman, he would have to decide how and when to dispose of the matter himself.
While he was pacing, the idea that the two of them, Childress and Lefleur, were in league, and had deserted together or betrayed him, crossed Delapos's mind briefly. He quickly dismissed that thought, however.
The only thing those two had in common was the naked hatred each had for the other, a hatred that Delapos had used, on occasion, to his advantage. No, he thought, those two could never work together on their own.
Though there was always the chance that one or both of them had been captured, Delapos was sure that he would have heard, by now, of such a thing or, worse, have had a visit from the Mexican Army. There was nothing, however, that indicated any danger. Still, as a precaution, he had ordered the number of outposts and lookouts on the hills to the north and west doubled. He had even sent extra people into the villages to listen for news of any increased patrols or activities by the Mexican Army. If there was trouble coming, Delapos felt comfortable that he would hear of it in time to flee.
That, however, did nothing to relieve his concern and apprehensions concerning the whereabouts of his two best men. Stopping at the window again, he looked vacantly toward the west, trying to clear his mind. He would give them until that evening to show up before he notified Alaman and began preparations to move his base of operation. He was too committed to Alaman's program of terror to let the mistakes of a few of his people, no matter who they were, stop him from succeeding. If, in the end, they could do what Alaman said they could, and Alaman regained the power and status he'd had before the June 29 revolution, Delapos could end his wanderings and retire a rich and powerful man in his own right.
Yes, he would do that. In the morning, if Childress or Lefleur still hadn't shown, he would begin sending his people and equipment out to the alternate location before they commenced their operations on the twenty-first. As for the Americans, they would be disposed of as part of the move. He would send the Americans out with the first team. They could be killed somewhere along the way.
Turning away from the window, Delapos resumed his pacing but abruptly stopped when he was struck by a sudden inspiration. What if, he thought, he sent that first team out before dawn with the dead Americans to Saltillo, where his men could leave their fresh bodies at the doorstep of the military garrison wrapped in the morning paper. Such an act would be a worthy beginning to their war of terror. Besides, it would pass on to the Mexican government a problem that not even the cleverest member of the Council of 13 could explain to the Americans. Yes, he would do that.
Sucking in his breath, Lieutenant Blasio looked at the gathering of American pilots, then marched over to join them. It would be difficult, he thought, to work with these men. After all, only a few hours ago they had been the enemy and would be, perhaps, again tomorrow. Still, if his colonel felt comfortable with the Americans and could work with them, so could he. The men he would work with were, after all, aviators, no different from himself.
When he was within a few feet of the American pilots, their conversation began to die out as one of them noticed him and then, attempting to be discreet, warned the others that 'he' was coming. By the time Blasio joined the circle of aviators waiting for their final briefing, the silence was total. The American Army colonel, the aviation officer for the 16th Armored Division, who would be giving the briefing, glanced at his watch before he looked about, first at his people, then at Blasio. Satisfied that everyone who needed to be there was present, he began.
, 'Okay, since everyone is here and eager to start, we'll begin early. By now, you've all had an opportunity to look over the route and the order.
The key to this operation, as if you haven't heard it enough today, is simplicity and synchronization. Although there are only, relatively speaking, a few aircraft involved, and we're going to be playing follow the leader, everyone needs to be on his, or her, toes and ready to take the lead at any time. Should you find yourself in the lead, remember the lowest common denominator.'
When the American colonel mentioned lowest common denominator, he was looking at Blasio. Though he
